brave
by omfg it's sophie
Summary: both of them are broken, scattered too far from the thing they once cherished that they don't know if they can pick up the pieces. [remussirius ootp. t for language.]


**A/N Cheers, Paris, for the song. I got this idea when I was on holiday and moping around in our villa thing doing absolutely _nothing_. So I decided to mope around and, instead of doing nothing, listen to some songs and relate them to Harry Potter – namely Sirius and Remus. And wow, Brave is just _wow_. It's an excellent song, it's so, so, so brilliant. **

**So, yes, that does mean slash. I promise that it won't be shit. Meaning elaborate bumsecks with Remus telling Sirius to give it to him, baby, or crap fluffy nonsense with Remus calling Sirius 'Siri' and Sirius calling Remus 'Remy'. Because we all hate that. **

**Disclaimer: Just cause it's slash doesn't mean it's not from canon. See my other fic, which is my view on Remus & Tonks while still being canon. JKR owns all characters and anything else you recognize from her books. Duh. Brave is the excellent song by Gavin Mikhail. **

**Spoilers: Go read the fucking books. I'm sorry, is that unkind of me?**

_I'm proud of who you've become _

_And the person you will be tomorrow _

_And I know I would give anything up for you_

_For you, I'll follow through, I promise to hold on _

_I'll never let go, won't let you down _

_If you can stay proud, I'll be brave somehow_

_Sometimes I need to hear you whisper,_

_'Everything's okay, you'll be fine_

_I'll help you find your way.'_

_Brave_, Gavin Mikhail

They only met a few odd times, after he had escaped. There was the time at Hogwarts, then a short time following, incredibly short. Sirius stayed at Remus' house for a week or so before Dumbledore wafted him off to caves to live in for a while. After that they had no means of contact besides owl and, to be frank, that wasn't good enough. Twelve years they had been apart – twelve years! - twelve years of lies and thoughts of betrayal. And then suddenly they were thrown at each other, the truth came undone and everything made sense.

And so, the new war almost came as a blessing to them. To Remus, who had lived an empty life, thinking his three friends were dead and the other the reason for their deaths, and to Sirius, who had lived just as empty a life, rotting in a cell for a crime he didn't commit, the only comfort the thought that he was innocent. It was a time when they were finally brought together again, with time to patch up things they hadn't been able to, to apologise, to mourn and to reminisce.

Still, however, both of them were broken.

Remus had to live in poverty which he didn't deserve – he was well educated, graduated top of his class and yet was reduced to being thrown from job to job, payment small, the times he got it few and far between. Because of what he was, not who he was, he had to live in prejudice. Because of who he was he had to carry the weight of what he was told had happened to his friends.

Sirius had gone through the unthinkable. Twelve years of his life were wasted. In the beginning, he insisted he was innocent. He roared after the Azkaban guards, but soon found that they weren't willing to sympathize. Whenever a Ministry official went past he shouted after them his story, what had happened, but they either scoffed at him or ignored him. He sobbed frequently in the beginning, but stopped nearly abruptly. What was the point? Soon, very soon, Sirius learned to just stay quiet, because nobody heard him, because nobody _cared _about him. Everyone either hated him, or was disgusted by him. Not even Remus.

And, although the cause of these things seems to be over, although they're together now and they know the truth, still they aren't the same as they once were. No longer are they the carefree boys who they had been at school. Both Sirius and Remus recognize this in each other, but neither say anything. Instead, they unite with their pasts, they build their relationship even stronger.

Now Remus stays in the house Sirius can't leave. He keeps him company. No one from the Order questions Remus' decision – he isn't the only one who stays, either. Many people stay the night if they have an early start for a task. And even if they did question it – they do notice, obviously – they wouldn't mind.

Even now, as Sirius glances up at the knock on his bedroom door, he knows it's not one of the Order asking him if he'd like some soup for dinner. He knows because Remus often comes to call on his room and now the Order, namely Molly, have taken to not bothering attempting to convince him to eat something. After all, he's eaten his weight in crisps and chips earlier – he isn't hungry.

"Are you okay?"

Remus' head sticks around the door, a flicker of worry passing his face only for a moment. Sirius cocks his head, a half-hearted smile on his lips. The Order has only been official a few weeks. Even after that, it took a while for Remus to get into the routine of staying at headquarters for the majority of the time. So, because of this, Sirius and Remus haven't yet had as much time as they'd please – even if they had had all the time in the world, however, they probably would never have as much time as they please.

"Better than ever." There's the slightest hint of sarcasm in Sirius' voice, but Remus doesn't need to be told from Sirius' tone what he's trying to say.

"You should eat, you know," he says casually, walking into the room and closing the door behind him. "Molly nearly had a heart attack when you stopped eating her food. She thought it wasn't good enough." Sirius laughs, pushes himself up from where he was lying on the bed, his palms flat out behind him, and looks at Remus for the first time. For a moment his expression is a mask, before it softens.

"Are _you_ okay?" he questions, ignoring Remus' slight nags. "You look utter shit."

"Ever the charmer." Remus is smiling though. He hesitates, still not yet back in the swing of the old comfort that they used to have. He _wishes_ they were, he wishes everything was just how it was before. That Sirius would tug on his sleeve when he was trying to write a paper for his job, or when he was making a piece of toast and tell him that he was being boring. That he would insist that _someone _had to make the toast, or that he had to keep up with his half of the rent. That Sirius would say that toast could go fuck itself and that Remus _knew _that any money that was Sirius' was his as well.

"Is that why you're up here, then?" Sirius grins devilishly, a small reminder of the past. He scrambles up even further, no longer needing his hands for support. "To tell me I ought to eat?"

"At school you never could _stop_ eating," Remus reminds him. He moves into the room, pauses only a fraction of a moment before sitting on the side of the bed, turning to face Sirius and frowning, making the movement totally innocent. It's been too long.

There's a pause, which is slightly awkward. Before there were never awkward pauses. If either of them had known what was going to happen, they would have filled up every comfortable pause which they ever sat through with each other. The pauses they used to have, though, those were the pauses which made the saying, 'gaps in conversations are taken by angels', seem true.

"I missed you," Sirius says gently. He looks up suddenly, as if realising what he's said, and scans the side of Remus' face that he can see. Remus doesn't move, looks down at his hand that's flat against Sirius' bed. He wants to tell Sirius that he missed him, he's wanted to every time Sirius ever said that (although every time Sirius did, it was always in the same tone as one stating the score of the Arsenal – Chelsea match), but he isn't entirely sure whether or not he did miss Sirius. He missed the Sirius who he had known at school, but he doubted who that Sirius was. He hated him for betraying them all, for lying to him, for all the things Sirius never actually did. He missed the Sirius he had _thought _he'd known and he isn't sure whether that's the same thing or not.

He shifts, the bed shifting somewhat underneath the weight of his body, and swings his legs over the side of the bed so that he's sitting next to Remus. They sit in silence for a moment. Neither of them know whether it's an awkward silence or a comfortable one. It seems like both.

"I'm sorry," Remus says quietly. Sirius shrugs and Remus realises that he felt the shifting of his shoulders against his _own _arm, because they're sitting so close together. He turns, close to Sirius, but not too close for comfort. Ever since he got back, Remus has been frightened it won't be like how it used to be. He hasn't tried anything, neither has Sirius, because they're both unsure. And yet, still, they are able to be closer to each other than they would be to anybody else, because of past experience.

"You've done well," Sirius says, voice dropping so it's even quieter than Remus'. "I mean – obviously, not as good as you'd have liked, but well." Remus looks at him, his expression disbelieving, and then turns away again. "You haven't sat in a park all these years drinking like I would have done, anyway," he adds in an offhand manner. "You actually managed to go on."

"You know that's only because it's my way of dealing with things," Remus says bluntly. He doesn't want to have this discussion again, because it will mean that everything in the past actually happened. It will open up old feelings which he managed to keep buried all these years.

"Me, though," Sirius says, as if he didn't hear Remus. "Looks like I'll never be free, doesn't it?"

Remus stares at him. He opens his mouth to tell him that, of course he will be free, but then closes it again. He isn't entirely sure whether he will be free. Not because he doesn't deserve it, not because Remus doesn't think his case is a convincing one, a _true _one, but because he has the same doubts in the current government that Sirius does.

"We just need to wait it out," Remus says. He's looking at Sirius again, carefully. Sirius doesn't move, he looks down at his hands. The sit like that for a moment, neither saying anything.

"I'm sorry," Sirius says, echoing Remus a moment before. "We do need to wait it out. It's all we can do, right? And, I mean," his voice grows slightly tighter, he closes his eyes for a moment, and then continues, "James wouldn't have wanted me to be like this around Harry. I _can't _be like this around Harry."

"Harry looks up to you so much, Sirius," Remus says promptly. "You're right. We all need to pull ourselves together." Sirius looks at him, hears what Remus is trying to say. _I'm a mess too_. They both have gone through so much hurt, so much pain and now they're here again, together again and they don't know what to do with it.

When Remus looks at Sirius again he finds that his face is awfully close to Sirius'. They both breathe quietly for a moment, eyes searching the other's face, which has changed so much in the time they were apart. And yet still the same features are there, the soft scars on one's face, the broad cheekbones on the other's. They know each other still, but they don't. The thing is, though, they have gone through the same change and so they _know _what the other has gone through, what they have had to deal with.

"We'll be fine," Sirius says. His voice is quiet now. Still, they are both aware of how close their faces are. Remus can feel Sirius' breath on his jaw. They sit like that, both so overwhelmed with the moment. Then, almost tentatively, Remus moves foreword. At first it's slow, hesitant. Sirius responds to his movement and, in an instant, they're kissing each other furiously. There's so much need in it that neither of them stop to think that they had ever been apart. Occasional words are said when one of them pulls away for a second. _Miss you_ and _couldn't cope_ are the only coherent ones.

When it is over, Remus' heart thuds against his chest. Sirius has a confused look on his face. He raises a hand, touches Remus' jaw for a moment, as if trying it out, and then drops it. They look at each other, neither saying anything.

"I didn't think," Remus says, avoiding Sirius' eyes all of a sudden. "I didn't know whether it would be the same." Sirius bows his head and that is answer enough for Remus. Sirius breathes out. He glances up, meets Remus' eye. For a moment there's something from before, a flash of confidence. He laughs quietly and Remus grins weakly. They look away from each other.

There's a knock on the door. Remus jumps up, instantly aware of himself again, instantly self conscious once more. He looks away from Sirius, at the now opening door.

"Remus, dear, are you in there?" Molly's head appears from behind the doorway. She smiles cheerfully, glances half-heartedly at Sirius, then at Remus again. "Oh, Sirius, we've set some soup out for you. I'm afraid I'm not taking no as an answer. You need to eat as well, Remus, darling, you look absolutely famished, come." Molly pushes the door open and stands in the doorway, hands on her hips. She looks at the two until they both make their way towards her.

They walk down to dinner, not saying anything they wouldn't say to each other before. They don't act different than the had done. The only signs that something happened between them, that some sort of fire was rekindled, is the way that Sirius' hand lingers when he passes Remus the salt, or the fond way that Remus looks at Sirius. Despite this, though, it is as if things had never changed. And, perhaps, they hadn't. Perhaps they hadn't _ever _changed.


End file.
